


Little Wing

by PrairieChzHead (msannomalley)



Series: Lost Causes [4]
Category: The Trixie Belden Mysteries - Julie Campbell Tatham & Kathryn Kenny
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-18
Updated: 2017-07-18
Packaged: 2018-12-03 22:26:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11541687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/msannomalley/pseuds/PrairieChzHead
Summary: Dan and Michelle are reunited over Thanksgiving.





	Little Wing

When I'm sad, she comes to me  
With a thousand smiles, she gives to me free  
It's alright, she says it's alright  
Take anything you want from me.  
Anything.

  
\--Jimi Hendrix, "Little Wing"

 

 

Dan Mangan walked slowly from the stables to his cabin, his muscles aching. He hadn't ridden a horse in years, not since before the war. Things were slower on the ranch when winter was approaching, meaning he had more spare time. More spare time than he wanted to have, more time to sit and think during those long winter nights about things he tried to drown in drink. And more time to think about the woman whose other name was Arizona. The woman who had staggered in and out his life four months ago, leaving only the indelible memories of one week spent together in her wake.

Rather than spend another Sunday alone wrestling with his demons, he stole into the O'Brien's stables, saddled a horse, and rode out over the desolate November prairie. He stared off into the distance, as the brown winter grasses blew in the wind. He let the cold wind blow over him, as if the chilly air could numb his aching soul.

Michelle hadn't been back to the ranch since their first meeting. She had called him only once, that time was in late September. She didn't mention anything that had happened between them when they had first met. In fact, to him, Michelle sounded distracted, distant. When she had called him, he could hear the sounds of partying going on in the background and he noticed that her speech was slower and slurred and he knew that she was either drunk or high again. Dan tried not to think about what Michelle did with her time.

Dan was beginning to think that she had forgotten about him, that he was nothing more to her than a conquest, another notch in her belt. He reminded himself that he had agreed to this no strings relationship and if it happened to be no more than what had happened in July, then so be it. But then he remembered what it felt like to hold her close to him as she slept or when she held him after he woke up from his never ending nightmares or how vulnerable she liked to pretend she wasn't. He wasn't sure that he even loved her, but yet he craved her presence.

Truth be told, Dan missed her more than he was willing to let on to anyone, even himself.

When he reached the cabin, his boss was waiting for him at the door.

"Anything wrong?" Dan asked.

Dick O'Brien shook his head. "No. I just wanted to talk to you about something. Can I come in?"

Dan shrugged and then opened the door, letting his boss walk into the cabin first. Dick sat down on the couch. Dan followed suit.

"I didn't know you rode horses," Dick said.

"Used to," Dan replied. "When I was a kid I rode a lot."

"Ever race them?" Dick looked at his employee intently.

Dan shook his head. "I used to ride patrols in some rich guy's game preserve. I worked with the gamekeeper after school and on weekends. My uncle taught me to ride."

"Your uncle raise horses?" Dick looked interested.

Dan shrugged again, more out of impatience. He had a feeling that Dick was fishing for something. "My uncle was the groom for the same rich guy with the game preserve."

"So you weren't some rich kid slumming or anything like that?"

 _What's your point?_  Dan thought. Aloud, he only said, "Far from it." Then Dan looked at his watch in such a way that Dick was sure to notice.

He did. "Right. Well. Thanksgiving's coming up and I just wanted to let you know that you're more than welcome to have dinner with the family."

That was the last thing Dan wanted. He just wanted to be left alone. He had nothing to be thankful for. And Thanksgiving dredged up more memories he didn't want to think about.

Dan cleared his throat nervously. "No offense or anything, but I'll pass. I'm not much for holidays."

Dick frowned. "Suit yourself," he replied. "If you'd rather, I'll give you the entire week off. No." Dick stood up. "I insist you take the entire week off. You've done a good job here, so the week of Thanksgiving you can go off and do as you please. Go check out Denver or something."

Dan looked up at his boss. "Thanks. You don't have to give me time off. But thanks anyway."

"Not a problem," Dick said. "It's hard to find good workers like you." Dick started walking to the door. Dan got up to follow him. Dick opened the door and started to walk out, but stopped. He turned around.

"Oh, Dan. One more thing."

"What?"

"When my sister comes around here, it's best to stay away from her."

"Why?" Dan asked. He already knew what Dick would say, but he wanted to hear it for himself.

"Because she's nothing but trouble. She'll string you along like a two dollar whore and then take off for months at a time. She'll sleep with anything that has a cock." Dick smiled, something Dan found rather sickening. "You're a good kid, Dan, even if you do need a haircut. I'm just trying to look out for you. Spare you a shitload of grief."

 _Too late_ , Dan thought. _I already slept with her.  And it was good, too._ Aloud he said, "I'll try to remember that."

 

 

Two Days Later

Dan was already awake trying to shake off that night's bad dream when the phone rang at 4 am. He was slow in getting up to answer, partially from fatigue and partially because he was still in the clutches of his nightmare. His heart was still hammering when he picked up the receiver.

"It's me," Michelle said quietly into the phone.

"Hey," Dan said, hoping he sounded casual instead of frightened. He felt a little thrill chase through him at the sound of her voice. His heart started to slow down its pace. "What's wrong?"

"The holidays are coming up and I don't want to come back there."

"Here?" he asked. "Is it your brother?"

"It's always my brother. I hate the fucking holidays."

"Join the club," Dan said. For a brief second, Dick's warning about Michelle came to mind, but Dan ignored it. "Listen, why don't you come anyway? You can stay at my place and out of sight of your brother."

"I can't," she replied. "I can't do that."

"Why not?"

Michelle sighed. "I can't. Don't ask anymore questions about this. Please."

Dan felt deflated. "Okay."

"I'll probably stay in Denver anyway and head out somewhere after the holidays."   Michelle knew she had to cut her ties with the band if she were to stay on the course she had set herself on after she left Nebraska last summer.  She faltered on that course once already, and she realized that she couldn't be around the band anymore.   That also meant she had to leave Los Angeles.  There was too much temptation in LA.  But she also knew if she wanted to stay on this course, she couldn't go back to the ranch, either.  It was better that way. 

"What if I came out there to see you?"

"I doubt that Dickie would let you have the time off. Especially if he knew why you wanted the time off. Has he warned you about me yet? You're better off listening to him, Dan." Michelle sighed again.

"He has, but it's too late. I'm already involved with you," Dan said. "Even if it's only no strings attached."

On the other end of the phone, Michelle winced at his remark. She sat on the edge of Barry's bed, in Barry's hotel room and he stirred slightly, then settled back to sleep. She remained quiet, quiet so she wouldn't wake him, and for long enough that Dan had to ask her if she was still there.

"I'm still here," she said.

"I've already got the time off," Dan said.

"How did you manage that?" Michelle sounded impressed.

"It was either take a week off or spend the holiday with your brother. Like you said, 'I hate the fucking holidays.'" Dan picked up the phone and took it over to the couch so he could sit down. "So," he asked. "Where are you anyway?"

"New York," Michelle replied.  _To give Barry the keys to my house back because I'm leaving them for good._   Over the phone, Dan could hear the rustling sound of blankets being moved around. He figured that she was in bed and he wondered if there was someone else there with her.  "Was there someone you wanted me to say hi to for you?" she asked him. 

"No," Dan snapped, annoyed partly because Michelle had pushed one of his buttons and partly because he wasn't too thrilled with the idea that Michelle was in bed with another man while she and Dan were carrying on this conversation . "They don't know I'm here and I'd prefer to keep it that way."

"Sorry," Michelle replied, somewhat sarcastically. "Like how would I know who your old friends are anyway?" Her voice rose as she said this and the Barry stirred again, mumbling in his sleep. Michelle waited for him to settle down again.

Dan felt sorry about snapping at her, even though he didn't appreciate her remark. He decided to let it pass, though.

"You still there?"

"Yeah," Michelle replied.

"I want to see you again," Dan said. "I was thinking about going to Denver anyway. If you're going to be there, then why don't I come over to where you're staying and see you for a week?"

Michelle hesitated. She did want to see him again, but ever since she left Nebraska last summer, her conscience kept nagging at her to leave him alone. She liked Dan, probably more than she should. No, she had fallen for him, even though she tried to tell herself otherwise.  She couldn't forget the time she spent with him in July, at least the parts of it that she actually remembered. He listened to her and he let her cry on his shoulder and he was probably the first person she had known in her short adult life that hadn't condemned her on the spot.

Michelle knew that if she wanted to pursue something with Dan, she'd have to go back to Nebraska, and she didn't want to do that.  Not now.  Dan was hurting enough as it is and she didn't want to add to it.  She remembered something she was told a few months back, about not depending on other people or other things to provide her happiness for her.  And she didn't think she was good enough for him. She had resolved to make Dan forget about her, to stay out of Nebraska, and not to call or write to him. She remembered calling him while a party was going on.  When she realized what she had done and that she had done it while she was drunk, she felt ashamed of herself.  Then she decided to stay away from any telephones. And she did for almost two months. But after seeing a few things that night and the realizations that hit her, Michelle's resolve crumbled. She needed to hear Dan's voice. After the guy Barry was with left, and she went into Barry's room, she made the call to Nebraska.

 _Don't_ , the inner voice told her.  _It's better this way._ But she needed to see him again.

"Sure," she said into the phone, the last remnants of her resolve disappearing altogether.

 

 

Sunday, November 18, 1973

 

Dan headed out for Denver that afternoon. Dick let him use the green pick-up for the trip.

"So, you got any plans while you're in Denver?" Dick had asked.

"Not really," Dan had replied.  _Other than seeing your sister again._

"It's probably good that you are going," Dick said. "My sister's bound to show up here anyway. The less of her you see, the better." Dick paused. "Well, have a good trip."

 

The drive would take about four hours from Dick's ranch. Dan started punching the radio buttons, looking for some music to break the silence.

"In the news from Vietnam--"  _I don't think so._

 _"_ Shine on me sunshine, walk with me world, it's a skip-e-dee-doo-da day--"  _Maybe for you._

"Well I'm on top of the world and lookin' down on creation--"  _Ugh._

"In the commodities market today--"  _Don't care._

Dan turned off the radio, figuring he'd try to find something decent when he got closer to Denver. He drove, his mind alternately on the road and on Michelle. He felt a quiet sort of excitement that began building inside with each passing mile.

 

 

Michelle sat in Room 214 at the Holiday Inn near the airport. The TV was on, but she wasn't paying much attention to it. She sat waiting for Dan to arrive. She called him two days ago to give him the address and directions to the hotel.

"And don't worry about money," she had said. "It's covered."

"How?" he had asked her. Michelle realized that she had said too much. Barry was paying for the room. Barry was the drummer in the band she hung with and he gave Michelle whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted it, whether it was money, drugs, booze, or a sympathetic ear. Barry offered to put her up in Denver until Michelle figured out what she wanted to do with her life.  Barry didn't know about Dan, other than guessing that Michelle had met someone last summer.  Barry knew all about Dick O' Brien. Barry thought Michelle was making a big mistake by leaving the road.

"Someone owed me a favor," she had replied, leaving it at that. She didn't want to tell Dan about Barry.

Michelle had a plan. She'd spend the week with Dan and when he had to go back to the ranch, she'd give him the speech she had been rehearsing in her head for the past week.  _I can't see you anymore. It's better this way. Just forget about me and get on with your life and find someone else who won't hurt you._ She had resolved to stay straight and not touch any liquor or drugs this time.  She needed to keep a clear head. But she was tempted to go up to the wet bar and get something to drink. The boredom was getting to her, not to mention her head hurt.

 _I should have told Barry not to get a room with a bar in it,_ she thought.  No, a fully stocked bar was too much of a temptation.  And when Michelle asked, she found out she couldn't change rooms until Monday.  Since Dan was coming, she had to wait another week to do that.

 

 

Dan pulled into the Denver area around five. The truck handled like a pachyderm, making driving on the freeway difficult. He watched carefully for his exit. As he drove, Neil Young had somehow gotten into Dan's head and was singing about how he wanted to spend the rest of his life with his cinnamon girl. Dan hummed along with the song stuck in his head as he left the freeway.

After missing his street and trying to find his way back to his destination in this unfamiliar town, he found the hotel. He wasted no time in getting out of his truck and heading for Room 214. When he knocked on the door, he almost felt sixteen again.

When the door opened and he finally laid eyes upon Michelle again, Dan didn't notice the circles under her eyes, nor did he notice the absence of that alcohol/pot scent that seemed to surround her. He only saw Michelle.

"Hey," Michelle said, opening the door a little further to let him in. She smiled, a small smile. She was on guard, her inner voice reminding her once again to leave him alone. "How've you been?" She closed the door behind him.

Dan shrugged. "Okay, I guess." What he really wanted to do right now was sweep her into his arms and hold her there and never let go of her, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. "And you?"

"The same," she said. An awkward silence hung in the air. Then she noticed his bag. "You can put that down over there if you want."

Dan set the bag down. Michelle watched him as he did this, as the fact that she had missed him more than she cared to admit hit her. She felt tiny pieces of her resolve start to crumble like the earth in a landslide.

"Are you hungry?" she asked him. He nodded. He hadn't eaten since earlier in the morning and told her so.

"Well, there's the restaurant downstairs," she said. "But you have to dress up. There's a diner I know of not far from here. Or there's room service." She was hoping he'd pick the diner. The diner was public, the diner was safe, and that inner voice was now shouting at her to not get too close.

"Room service is fine," he said. "I'm kind of tired from the drive."

"Oh yeah," she replied. "I forgot about the drive you had." She went over to a desk and picked up a menu, then handed it to him. She told him to get whatever he wanted. "It's covered," she explained.

"Your friend?" he asked. She gave a start. Dan noticed. He had noticed her distance and noticed how nervous she seemed to be and wondered if maybe that week in July really was a fling for her, but she didn't have the courage to tell him. He laid a hand on her shoulder. Michelle felt herself relax a bit under his touch. Bigger pieces of her resolve started crumbling away.

"Yeah. My friend. Said I could stay as long as I wanted and he'd foot the bill, since I had no place to crash. He knows about Dick."

"Oh."

 

The food arrived and they sat at the small table in the room to eat it. Dan had helped himself to some whiskey from the bar while waiting for the food to be brought up. When he offered some to Michelle she said she wanted to stick with water. They ate in near silence, save the sounds of utensils scraping together.

Some of Michelle's nervousness was rubbing off on Dan and he continued to drink the whiskey. The alcohol was relaxing him.

"Can I ask you something?" he said to Michelle.

"What?"

"So why do you really go back there?"

"I told you before," she said, not wanting to get into this conversation. She knew what would happen if it continued. She'd get upset, then start drinking or toking to calm down and then her resolve would go down the toilet.

"I don't think that's the only reason," Dan said. The whiskey had loosened his tongue. "And I know I'm right."

Michelle sighed. The inner voice warned her again about leaving Dan alone, not getting too close, and how she had to tell him that he had to find someone else. But when she looked at him, she remembered last July and how difficult it was to say goodbye to him and her thinking that now she had a real reason to come back.  _Oh, what the hell._

The pieces of earth in her mental landslide were now good sized chunks tumbling away.

"Mary," she said. "Mary is why I go back."

"How so?"

"She worries about me. When she married Dickie, she tried to be a mother to me, but by then it was about nine years too late. But she worries about me, so I go back to let her know that I'm still alive so she stops worrying for five minutes. She feeds me and tells me that everyone misses me even though I know that's a lie. I come around and Dickie hates it and tells her not to give me the time of day because I'm nothing but trouble, but she says that it wouldn't be very Christian of her if she ignored me." Michelle sighed, eyeing the whiskey glass next to Dan's plate.

"You want some?" he asked. She hesitated.  _Don't do it,_ the inner voice said.  _You don't want to end up back in Briarton again. Remember what happened last time._ She ignored the inner voice. Maybe just one wouldn't hurt.

"Okay."

Dan got up to get another glass and when he found it, he poured some whiskey into it and handed it to Michelle. She knocked it back, the liquid burning the back of her throat. When it hit her stomach, she felt somewhat light-headed. She slid the glass back to him for more. After he filled it again, she knocked that one back, too.

Now the chunks of earth were getting larger and the ground was starting to shake as the pieces of her resolve came down faster.

She went on. "Mary thinks that I need to find a man and that would solve all my problems. She's convinced that if I find a man, marry him, and have his kids, things will be all happy and shiny. Well, I've found a few men, and I'm still waiting for things to be happy and shiny."

"But you didn't marry them or have their kids," Dan pointed out. He was completely relaxed by now.

"And I don't want to. Can you picture me as the happy little homemaker?" she snorted. "Yeah, right." She pushed her empty glass at Dan for another re-fill. "You spend your day cleaning and changing shitty diapers and watching soaps and you're a nobody because you're doing this and missing out on life. I want to be somebody. I don't want to miss out." She knocked her third glass back faster than the previous two.

"You want to know about missing out?" Dan said. "I could tell you a thing or two about missing out." He poured himself another whiskey. Michelle shoved her glass towards him and he filled hers for the fourth time.

"How's that?" she wondered.

"Paying my debt to society." He knocked back his drink.

"I thought you said you went to live with your uncle," she replied, tossing the whiskey back as well.   _That's four now, Michelle.  That's enough._

"He was my guardian, but I went to live with Maypenny. I guess my uncle didn't want me around to corrupt the boss's kids." He poured himself another glass. "Anyway, I had to work all the time. After school, on the weekends, on vacations just to prove that I was now a good boy. Well, the boss's kids had this club--"

"They had a club?" Michelle chortled.

"Yes, they had a club," Dan threw her a dark look. "They let me be in it. But when they weren't doing good deeds for others, they were always going off on trips. Guess who had to stay home?"

"You."

"Exactly. The rich kids could always go away. Even the neighbors who weren't rich got to go. But not Danny. Danny had to stay home and chop wood to pay his debt to society. Danny had to work his ass off while everyone else got to have fun."

"You didn't get to go along at all?"

"Well, three times," he admitted. "Once to New York City, once to Missouri, and once to upstate New York. But still, some of them even got to go to England."

"It couldn't have been all bad, though," she said.

"No. Maypenny's a good guy. He treated me well. But the others, they were the ones that got to go right off to college because they had money and I didn't, so I got sent to 'Nam." He poured himself another drink and knocked it back in a violent manner.

Michelle could see the resentment in his eyes. She could see the years of hurt that he had kept buried inside start to break through, too. She got up from her chair and went over to him, laying a hand on his shoulder. Dan looked up at her. She returned his gaze and his demeanor began to soften. She softly stroked his cheek and he closed his eyes, relishing her touch. She brought her other hand up to brush the hair that had fallen into his eyes.

Their eyes met again.

Michelle's inner voice, now down to a hoarse croak, tried in vain to be heard.

"It's okay," she said softly. "You're somebody, Dan Mangan. You're somebody to me."

She brought her face closer to his and brushed his lips with hers. He responded, taking in her essence, her nearness, and the solace she offered and he felt the empty space within him being filled. He pulled her closer to him and held her tightly while he returned her kiss.

Her inner voice was silenced; swept away with her resolve and her plans in the landslide.

 

That night's bad dream was different.

_He was standing in the dining room of Crabapple Farm, wearing his Army dress uniform, every crease perfectly sharp, his shoes polished, his tie straight, his medals shining and making soft clinking sounds as he moved. His hat covered the standard Army regulation haircut._

_It was Thanksgiving and everyone in the neighborhood was there for the Belden's annual Thanksgiving Open House. He stood in the middle of the room and watched as people took plates of food and sat down to eat. Others walked past him; they seemed not to notice that he was standing in the middle of the dining room all dressed up. He looked over to one side of the room and saw Trixie and Jim sitting together, cozy, and eating. Jim was saying something to her and she would smile at him in reply. He saw his uncle and Maypenny standing in another corner. They were looking directly at Dan, but they were not really seeing him. He saw everyone else eating and talking. He saw the little kids running around until Mrs. Belden told them to stop. He saw everyone except for Mart._

_Dan could smell the food and went over to where the buffet was set up to get himself something to eat. He approached the buffet and when he started to grab a plate, he was bumped out of the way by some faceless person. He tried again only to be pushed away again by Bobby Belden._

_He tried a third time and he got the plate, but it was snatched from his hands by Diana Lynch. She glared coldly at him._

_"No food for you, baby killer," she spat at him._

_Dan tried to defend himself, but he was mute. His voice was gone. By this time, everyone else had stopped what they were doing to glare at Dan._

_Diana continued. "You're not one of us. You'll never be one of us. You don't belong here." Then she paused for effect. "Baby killer."_

_Again, Dan tried to speak up, to say something in his defense. He looked over to Regan and Maypenny, but they were glaring at him, too._

_"She's right," his uncle said. "I never wanted you around in the first place. I should have left you out on the streets."_

_Then Mrs. Belden stepped up. "You're not welcome here. My walls don't stretch far enough to let you in. Especially after what you did to my son."_

_The guests had gathered around Dan, a circle of angry and accusing eyes. The circle broke open and parted. Mart, in his wheelchair, rolled himself into the room. He was dressed in a button up shirt with a wide collar, and faded jeans, the bottom half of each pants leg pinned up. His hair was long and scraggly and he had a scraggly beard to match. Pinned to his shirt was a Purple Heart._

_"You have the balls to show up here after what you did to me?" Mart spat out, his blue eyes snapping with anger. "You put me in this chair. Get the hell out of this house."_

_Waves of guilt washed over Dan. He wanted to get out. He wanted to get away from the accusing eyes. But he couldn't move. He was rooted in his spot._

_Then he heard a voice calling out to him. The voice was far away, but he could hear it clearer as the speaker got closer. Michelle walked into the room. She was wearing hot pants, knee high lace up boots, and a halter top and her auburn hair was down and flowing and she wore a backstage pass on a cord around her neck. She looked like she had just come from the backstage party at that night's show. In between the thumb and index finger of her right hand, she held a joint. The fingers of her left hand were wrapped around a bottle of bourbon. She walked up to him, and she looked him in the eye._

_"You're somebody to me, Dan Mangan," she said. She moved the bourbon bottle to her right hand after her joint magically disappeared, then she looped her left arm through his right. She started to lead him out of the room, and he went with her, now that he regained his ability to move._

_"You're somebody to me," she repeated. "But only when I feel like it."_

_Dan stopped moving to stare at her. She started laughing at him. "No strings, remember?" She continued to laugh._

 

He woke with a start, sitting up, and blinking his eyes. He looked around at the unfamiliar surroundings, forgetting where he was. Beside him, Michelle stirred, then opened one eye. He put his head in his hands and didn't hear the sounds of her trying to sit up. She put her hand on his bare shoulder and squeezed.

"You okay?" she asked.

Dan blinked again, remembering that he was in a hotel room in Denver. He didn't say anything.

"Same dream again?"

Dan shook his head. "A different one," he said.

Michelle drew him to her and held him. "It's okay," she whispered. "You're here, not there."

"It wasn't 'there'," he said. "I was back home."

Michelle stared at him.

They settled back down again and she whispered soothing words to him and brushed the hair from his eyes. His heart slowed down to its normal pace. After awhile, she pulled him closer and kissed him and once again gave herself to him as solace.

 

Dan woke the next morning, blinking his eyes against the harsh beam of sunlight that shone through the gap in the drapes covering the balcony door. The light left a bold stripe that went across the room and over the bed. Michelle was still sleeping, her head resting on his shoulder, her legs entwined with his, and her arm lying across his chest. She was warm and soft and she felt so exactly right in his arms. He felt a sense of calm surrounding him, almost as if some invisible shield were in place over them keeping the memories and his demons out. He wanted to stay like this forever.

He kissed the top of her head and she stirred slightly in her sleep, cuddling up closer to him. Dan tightened his arms around her and brought one hand up to stroke her hair. He studied her face. She looked peaceful in sleep, as if her troubled life belonged to someone else. His finger traced slowly along the contours of her face, feeling every sensation caused by his finger moving along her skin.

Dan knew that he felt something for this woman. He wanted to be with her and wanted her around him. Even though he only knew her a short time, he couldn't imagine his life without her in it. He wasn't so sure that he wanted to call it love, though. Love was one of those strings he agreed not to have. Loving another person was something Dan felt he no longer knew how to do. That ability had died with the part of him that made him what he used to be.

He knew that Michelle was not a bad person, despite what her brother said. Misguided, perhaps, but she was a good person. He could see through the front she kept up, and he had been able to do that since the first time he woke up and she held him and chased away the nightmare. Mary could see the good in her, too. Pity that Michelle couldn't see it herself.

Maybe that's what he felt for her. Pity. They had similar pasts, but no long lost uncle came to her aid when she needed someone. She only had a brother who felt she was an inconvenience when she was a child and called her names like "two dollar whore" as a grown up. He couldn't imagine any of the Belden brothers calling Trixie a "two dollar whore".

Dan sighed and shifted slightly. Michelle opened her eyes slowly as her lids were still heavy with sleep.

"Good morning," he said softly.

"Good morning," she replied, trying to shake off the last remnants of sleep.

Dan continued to stroke her hair slowly and she sighed, content. This was what she wanted, what she craved. Waking up in the arms of a man was nice, especially since everyone else always left her before she woke up, but it was the closeness she wanted. Dan gave her something that no one else did. He made her feel wanted and cherished. He wanted to see her again. He insisted on coming out here to see her. Michelle realized that was because he missed her. Someone in this world actually cared about her and missed her and wanted to be around her.

 _Too bad the only thing you can give him is a piece of ass. Pretty pathetic, considering what he gives to you. So when are you going to tell him?_  Michelle's inner voice was back.

Michelle jumped, startled.

"Something wrong?" Dan asked her.

"Uh, no. Nothing at all." Michelle snuggled closer. She decided that she was going to ignore that inner voice. Feeling wanted and cherished was more important.

 

Over the next couple of days, Michelle showed Dan around Denver. One afternoon, when they were near a park, Michelle accosted someone passing by and convinced that person to take a picture of her and Dan together.  Another night, Dan decided that he wanted to take her out one night, so they went to the movies and then ended up in a bar, against Michelle's better judgment. While the two of them were minding their own business, a drunken patron noticed Dan's Army jacket and he went up to them. He then decided to loudly proclaim his stance against the war and the people who fought in it. Then he turned to Michelle and told her that she could do much better than "the baby killer here". Then Dan stood up, faced the drunk, and gave him the menacing look he used to give people back when he was in the gang, only this time it seemed more effective on a hardened twenty-three year old war veteran's face. The drunk backed away, into a group of his friends who then urged him to get away from Dan.

"Let's get out of here," Michelle said, although Dan didn't seem to hear her. He seemed transfixed on something.

"Dan?" Michelle shook his arm. "Let's go."

He turned in her direction, his hard expression still there. Michelle swallowed nervously. Whatever it was he slipped into, he was still there, and his expression scared her.

Dan stalked out of the bar and Michelle practically had to run to keep up with him. The drunk called after her, "You know, you still got a chance with me."

Michelle's only reply was to give him the finger, which angered the drunken man. He struggled as his friends held him back.

She found Dan out in the parking lot by the truck, pacing back and forth and muttering. He stopped and shouted, "God damn it to hell!"

Michelle approached him slowly. "I'm sorry," she said.

Dan waved his hand. "You didn't do anything, Michelle. And it's nothing I haven't heard before. People who I thought were my friends have called me that." He leaned back against the truck and ran his hand through his dark hair. He wanted to get drunk, to get high, hell, he even wanted a cigarette, anything to bring back the calm he had been feeling. For the past couple of days, he actually felt good, better than he had in a long time. But that shield had been broken. He had started to believe that it had been strong, almost indestructible. But it had been fragile all along.

Michelle slid her arms around his neck and held him close to her. "It's going to be okay," she whispered. "Don't let that asshole get to you." She could start to feel the tension leaving him as he relaxed in her embrace. She wanted to take his pain away.

When they got back to the hotel, Dan went straight for the liquor, but Michelle laid a hand on his arm and when he looked up, she only shook her head. She took his hand and led him towards the bed.

Too bad the only thing you can give him is a piece of ass.

"I'm not..." Dan started before she interrupted him.  _...in the mood._

"Not that," she replied. She started undressing herself. When she got down to only her underwear, she grabbed a big t-shirt and slipped it over her head. She slipped under the covers, pulling some of them back on Dan's side of the bed. After he got undressed, he slid into bed next to her and she immediately moved closer to him. He put his arm around her and she rested her head on his shoulder. She brought her hand up and slowly ran her fingers over the stubble on his face.

They lay like that for a long time. Nothing was said. Nothing needed to be said. It was Dan who broke the silence.

"Why'd you stop protesting the war?"

Michelle thought for a moment. "I saw some of the hypocrisy in it."

Dan drew her closer to him. "I thought you were against it."

"I am," she replied. "It was the hypocrisy in some of the other people who were doing it." She brought her hand down from his face and started tracing patterns on his chest. "There were people who sincerely believed in what they were saying and lived their lives that way. Then there were people who only were doing it because it was the 'in' thing to do. Then there were the ones who were so vehemently against it and shouted out about peace and we should all love one another, but yet they didn't practice it. They'd call vets "baby killers" and spit on them while wearing their green fatigue jackets they bought at the Army Surplus store. Then they'd say 'Peace Now' while bombing the administration building."

Dan digested that. Then he asked, "Do you think I'm a baby killer?"

"No," Michelle replied. "I don't think that about you. I hate what the war did to you. And I'm the last person who should be passing judgment on someone else." She moved closer to him.

Dan didn't say anything for a few minutes. When he spoke, he said, "Someone who I thought was my friend called me that. It was when I came home, almost a year and a half ago. Remember that club I told you about?" Michelle nodded.

He continued. "Well, when I came home, Trixie decided to throw me a welcome home party at the Wheeler's lake--"

"Trixie? Wheeler's?" Michelle asked.

"Trixie was one of the co-presidents. The Wheeler's were the rich folks who owned the game preserve I worked in. My uncle worked for them, too." Dan took a breath and continued. "Well, we always used to have get-togethers down at the Wheeler's lake. I think Trixie wanted to bring everyone back together again and have things be like they used to, but it didn't work. Her brother Mart couldn't go. He said it was because it would be too hard to manage the wheelchair over the ground. The real reason was because his ex-girlfriend would be there. She dumped him after he came home. She said it was because he took part in something she was 'principally against', but I think it was because she didn't want to deal with a guy in a wheelchair."  _And you can't bear to look at him, either._

"Is Mart the friend who lost his legs?" Michelle asked. Dan nodded.

"When the picnic happened, Di, the ex-girlfriend, refused to sit next to me and she made a big deal out of it, too. She said she didn't want to be associated with a baby killer. That pretty much killed the party right there.

"She left and the others started apologizing for her, but it was too late. We were all friends, but after that, things started to fracture."

"If she was so against the war and those who fought in it, why was she there in the first place?" Michelle wondered.

"The others probably talked her into going," he replied. "The whole time she was there, she looked like she'd rather have been somewhere else."

After another protracted silence, Michelle asked. "This Di, she lives in Westchester, right?"

Dan nodded. "Her father's a self-made millionaire. Why do you ask?"

"Because when I was in New York a few weeks ago, some rich kids showed up backstage and one of them said her name was Diana Lynch."

"You saw her?" Dan asked. "How was she?" His tone of voice betrayed some of his earlier feelings of not caring.

"Stoned. Trying to get into the singer's pants. I think she succeeded. There's always a bunch of rich kids that show up at concerts who have nothing better to do, so they come backstage and party and have their pictures taken with the band and then they leave and go back to their friends to brag how they made it with someone in the band."

Dan had a difficult time reconciling the Di Lynch that Michelle described to him with the Di Lynch he knew when they were younger. Michelle noticed his troubled expression and she kissed him softly on the cheek.

"People change," she whispered to him. "Maybe she'll change back someday."

"You can never go back," he replied to her.

 

The following day was Thanksgiving. Dan and Michelle had Thanksgiving dinner at a greasy spoon joint that stayed open despite the holiday. The food wasn't the greatest, but it was edible. The turkey was dry and the gravy had congealed. There were a few people in the diner that day. They were mostly those who had no where else to go.

After they ate, they took a drive out of the city and past the suburbs towards the mountains. The day was actually warm for November and the jackets they brought sat on the truck seat and they rode with the windows down. On the drive, Michelle sat close to Dan as he drove. They found a small park off the main road, one that had a spectacular view of the city below. After he backed up the truck and parked it, he got out and pulled open the tailgate and they sat there and admired the scenery below them.

Dan's good mood had returned, and although Michelle noticed, she didn't say anything about it. She sat close to him and when he put his arm around her, she leaned into him as if she was incapable of sitting up on her own. His fingers found their way into her hair again and he noticed how the sunlight brought more of the red out. Michelle had a nice head of dark reddish-brown hair, more brown than red, that went down to the middle of her back. He leaned in and inhaled, smelling the scent of her shampoo. Then he was struck by a thought.

"You don't look Irish," he told her. "You know, the red hair and the green eyes."

Michelle laughed. "It's my mother's fault. She had brown hair and blue eyes. My father was the green-eyed redhead. But I got some of the red." She looked up at him with her dark blue eyes. "You don't look Irish, either."

"I'm black Irish," he replied. "My mother was the green-eyed redhead. My father had the dark hair."

They settled back into silence again. It wasn't an awkward silence, but one that was more out of contentment. One where you can sit with someone and you are so comfortable around them, words needn't be exchanged. Dan went back to playing with her hair for awhile. Michelle leaned into his shoulder and closed her eyes. He kissed the top of her head and then asked her, "How did you get your name?"

Michelle brought her head up and looked at him. "The same way you got your name," she replied.

"No," he said. "Your other name. Arizona."

She shrugged. "It was given to me." And she left it at that. She didn't want to talk about her "other" life, the life she'd been trying to shed for the past few months. After that first night of Dan's visit, she had practically forgotten she lived this other life. Sensing a bout of melancholy coming on, she decided to change the subject.

Michelle jumped off of the tailgate abruptly and walked over to a fence that had been erected at the edge of the overlook. Dan followed her slowly. She looked at the city below, the afternoon sunlight reflecting brightly off of the large, downtown buildings.

"I bet this looks beautiful at night, all lit up," she remarked.

 _Not nearly as beautiful as you are,_ he thought. And she was beautiful standing at the fence, the unseasonably warm breezes tossing her long hair about. She was beautiful because she had let him see her real self during the past few days. She seemed so far removed from the woman who had wandered up to the cabin in an alcohol and pot fueled daze bitterly railing against her brother. She seemed to be happier now.

 _He_  seemed happier now.

Dan, except for the previous night and last Sunday, hadn't felt the need to drown his sorrows and he noticed that Michelle had been drinking less as well. He had her instead, with her patience and her tenderness, and he didn't want to let her go. The past few days made him realize the true depth of his feelings towards her and he was startled to realize that maybe he hadn't lost certain parts of himself in Vietnam.

From behind, he reached out and touched her cheek. Michelle turned around and their eyes met. He gently pulled her close to him.

 _I love you,_ he thought. But the words wouldn't come out of his mouth.

He brought his lips to Michelle's, kissing her deeply and passionately. It was the sum of every kiss he had ever given her, leaving no doubt as to how he really felt about her. The kiss seemed to take her by surprise at first, but she soon responded eagerly, matching his passion with that of her own.

When breathing made it necessary for them to break apart, their eyes met again. Michelle thought she could see deep into Dan's soul.

 _I love you, too,_ she thought.

*********

Later that night, they made love to each other and it felt different than any other time before. Every kiss, every caress was different than before. When they came together, it wasn't out of some pure hormonal need or trying to ease a hurt, it was a true uniting of two souls, two kindred spirits, into one. There was no going back now. Whether they wanted it or not, the strings that they both agreed against had now bound them together inextricably.

But neither of them could say the words. Dan wanted to tell her that he loved her, but when he tried to say it, the words refused to come out.  Michelle, in spite of how liberated she was, was waiting to hear it from him first. And she was scared to say it. Michelle thought she believed that love didn't exist, but now she wasn't so sure. She got whatever material things she wanted from her friends on the road, but it was Dan who gave her those intangible things she wanted and needed, things like unconditional acceptance and the feeling that she mattered. Her friends never gave her even that much.

In that pleasant drowsiness afterward, she asked Dan something she had wanted to ask him last night.

"Why did you go?" When he looked at her quizzically, she added, "To Vietnam."

"I had to," he replied. "I had no other choice."

She shifted slightly, making herself more comfortable. "How's that? Couldn't you have said you were a conscientious objector?"

"They wouldn't have bought it. I was too fit to claim to be 4-F. I wasn't desperate enough to cut off one of my own toes to get out of it.  And I sure as hell wasn't going to pretend I was...well...you know."

Michelle nodded, understanding what he meant. "Why didn't you go to Canada?"

"Draft dodging was out of the question," he replied. "I still had a juvenile record." He pulled her closer and then continued. "If you get into trouble with the law when you're a kid, your record is open until you turn 21. After that, it's sealed. When I got sent to live with my uncle, the judge was taking a chance by not going the traditional route and sending me straight to juvenile hall. One of the conditions of my sentence was that I stay out of trouble. If I had gotten into trouble after that, all bets were off and I would have gotten sent straight to juvvie until I turned 21." He paused to kiss her hair. "I was nineteen when I got drafted.

"I had really turned myself around and I didn't want to slide back into that life again. I didn't want to lose what I had worked so hard for. So I went."

"And you ended up losing something else entirely," she finished for him. He nodded in agreement.

*********

Sunday, November 25, 1973

Dan stayed until five that day. He knew that he wouldn't get back to the ranch until very late, but he didn't care. He didn't want to leave, but he knew he had to go back.

The nice weather of Thanksgiving Day had been chased out by a cold front. The skies were a dark gray, due to the fading daylight. Snow flakes flew around in the air. Michelle walked with him out to the truck. Dan shoved his bag across the seat to the passenger's side.

"Are you sure you can't come back with me?" he asked. He tried to convince Michelle to go back to Nebraska with him. She said she couldn't. "Dick is around the house more and I can't avoid him like I can in the summer," she had said. She wanted to go back with Dan in the worst way, but she didn't want to face her brother. She knew she was being a coward, but she also knew what would happen if she went back and Dick started in on her again. The fragile house of cards that was her current state of happiness would come down and she'd be back into the behaviors she had decided to change. And she needed to do some thinking. Not about Dan, but about herself.

"If you change your mind..." Dan was hoping she would do just that.

Michelle didn't say anything. Instead she put her arms around his neck and kissed him. "Call me when you get back, okay? Even if it's really late."

Dan promised he would do that. "You'll call, too, right?"

Michelle nodded. "And more than two times, too. I promise." She smiled ruefully. He smiled back at her. Then as the smile faded, he reached out and touched her cold cheek.

_Say it, Mangan. Why the fuck can't you say it?_

He kissed her instead.

Before he slid into the truck, he said good-bye to her. Michelle thought she heard an odd catch in his voice. When she said good-bye to Dan, her voice was louder, but shaky. She could feel the tears welling up in her eyes. She looked down so he couldn't see them. He reached out and tilted her face back up and then the tears spilled down her cheeks. He wiped them away with his thumb. Then he took her back into his arms and held onto her tightly. He kissed her again, a slow, lingering kiss. Then he got into the truck. Before he started the engine, he looked at Michelle one last time. She raised her right hand up and waved to him slightly. He waved back. Then he took a deep breath, started the truck, and pulled out of the parking lot.

When the truck disappeared from her line of sight, Michelle burst into tears.

 

**Epilogue**

Monday, December 24, 1973  
Harrisburg, NE

She arrived into town late in the afternoon, as the sun was descending. Her first stop was the cemetery. She had amends to make. The sky was a brilliant pinkish-blue, casting its light on the glittering snow.

Michelle had spent the first two weeks after Dan left thinking. She thought about him and the life she led, knowing how she couldn't have both. She had to make a choice.  Then she thought about her brother. She could stay away from him and then, by extension, the man she had fallen in love with, and she'd have her sanity and her sobriety. But she would be lonely.

She could swallow her pride, go back to Nebraska and be with Dan. Even if it meant having to deal with her asshole brother and even if, though she didn't want to think about the possibility, it meant trouble for Dan. She could see her brother giving Dan a hard time about her.

Or she could stay in Denver and start over again.  She could settle down, get a job and a place of her own, but then she'd only see Dan when he could manage to get the time off or if she went back to the ranch when she knew her brother wasn't around. 

Michelle chose the second route, reasoning that Dan could handle her brother. She wanted to be with him more than anything else in the world. Arizona ceased to exist as of today. From now on, it was Michelle. In less than a month, she would turn twenty-four and she discovered that she wanted the strings after all. It was time to settle down. Maybe not into marriage, as she was not ready for that and she knew it, but at least settle down and start living a normal life in one place.

She hadn't told Dan that she was coming back. She was going to surprise him, as sort of a Christmas/birthday present. They talked on the phone almost every day and she had learned when his birthday was. It was actually yesterday, but she wasn't able to get away until today.

Michelle walked through the snow covered cemetery and she didn't stop until she found two headstones set side by side. She stood before them silently, trying to find her voice. The shadows stretched further as the sun sank into the horizon.

She finally found her voice. "I miss you," she said to the two headstones in a strangled voice. "I wish things had turned out differently." She felt the hot tears that had been brimming behind her lower eyelids slip down her cheeks. She wiped them away.

"I'm so sorry," she said, her voice choked with regret. "I'm sorry I let you down." Then she straightened up. "But I'll make it up to you. I promise."

*********

Dan sat in the chair in his cabin staring at the television. Michelle said she'd call, but she hadn't yet and it was now after seven. She couldn't have been out because everything had been closed for a few hours. He seriously doubted that she had gone to church.

Mary stopped by not only to leave him food, but she left him a lot of the cookies and candies she had made. She also decorated the place for him a few weeks ago, too. A small artificial tree stood on a card table. Near the small tree, sat the presents he bought for Michelle. He hadn't mailed them out to her, out of some shred of hope she'd change her mind and come out to see him before January. She told him she was doing some thinking, but she didn't elaborate any further than she wasn't having second thoughts about him.

Dan didn't care for the decorations. He'd rather Mary hadn't done that. But she was only trying to be nice, so he left them up.

Ghosts from the past flitted about his consciousness. Not the ghosts of the war, but the ghosts of people he knew. Old memories of Christmases past with both of his parents came to mind. He remembered going to Midnight Mass with his parents. When he was very little, he'd fall asleep and his father carried him as the family walked home from church. Then Dan would wake up when they got home and then he'd find that Santa Claus had come to the Mangans' small apartment while they had been out. He'd beg his parents to let him open just one present before he went to bed and his mother would cross her arms over her chest and say, "Well, I don't know..." Then Dan would look at his father. "It's Christmas, Kathleen," Tim would say to his wife. "It won't hurt Danny if he opens just one." Then Kathleen's eyes would twinkle as she relented.

Those happy times stopped after Dan turned eight and a drunk driver had hit Officer Tim Mangan while he was off-duty. Christmas was never the same without Dad. Kathleen tried, but it wasn't the same with his dad gone.

When Dan turned fourteen, he spent the next two Christmases out on the streets of New York. Kathleen Mangan had died from cancer that fall.  He had been fifteen for two months when the uncle he never knew he had came for him and took him to Sleepyside. Then after that, he spent the holidays with his uncle and with Maypenny and then they'd all go over to the Beldens' in the evening with the rest of the Bob-White's families.

He stopped thinking about the Christmases after that. When he was twenty, and for the next couple of years, he spent Christmas overseas.

Dan hoped that maybe Michelle would change her mind and come out to spend Christmas with him. But she hadn't said anything about going anywhere, just that she'd call him.

He thought about calling her. But she said she'd call and she'd been very good about calling him.

Dan thought about his uncle, too. He eyed the telephone, thinking that maybe he should call. But he didn't want to tie up the line in case Michelle called. But if she did call and he was on the phone, she could always call him back. Or he could call her after he was done.

That's what he'd do. First, he'd call his uncle. Then he'd call Michelle.

*********

It was well after seven when Michelle arrived at the ranch. She didn't want her brother to know that she had come back, so she killed the headlights on her car when she got closer to the house.

She spent the last few hours driving around the small town. She drove through the empty downtown, its shops closing early on Christmas Eve. The churches were packed, though. Memories came flooding back. Most of them were not good ones.

Michelle didn't go to the cabin right away. For some reason, she was irresistibly drawn to the main house. She stood in the shadows, but she could see into the living room window. The house was decorated for the holiday and there was a fire roaring in the fireplace. She saw her brother poking at it with a metal poker. Mary and the two children, a boy and a girl, were on the sofa and Mary was reading to them. Probably "'Twas the Night Before Christmas". Michelle's parents did the same thing when she was little. It was tradition.

Michelle realized she didn't remember her niece's and nephew's names. But that would soon change.

Michelle kept looking into the window, but instead of Dick poking the fire and Mary and the two kids sitting on the couch, she saw her father tending the fire while Michelle sat on the couch next to her mother, listening raptly as Mom read to her. Dick wasn't there. He was at his girlfriend's family's place. It wasn't 1973. It was 1957, the last Christmas before her parents died. After that, there were no more cozy Christmas Eve nights like this. Dick always had other things to do.

Michelle shivered as an icy night breeze lifted her hair from her shoulders and touched her cheeks. She felt the tears coming on again and she couldn't stop them.

She went off to the stables to cry. She was going to surprise Dan and he didn't need to see that she had been crying. This was supposed to be a happy occasion.

*********

Dan hesitated before picking up the handset. He dialed Regan's number from memory and did so with a shaking hand. What if Regan didn't want to talk to him after all these months away?

The phone rang four times. Dan was going to hang up, but Regan picked up on the fifth ring. "Hello?"

"Hi, Uncle Bill," Dan said.

"Dan??? Is that you?" Regan fairly shouted into the phone.

"Yes, it's me," Dan replied. "Just wanted to wish you a Merry Christmas."

"Where in the hell have you been? Where are you?"

"Nebraska," Dan replied. "I got a job here and everything."

"You know, everyone here is worried sick about you," Regan chastised his nephew.

"Sorry," Dan mumbled. He doubted that they even cared at all. "I'm fine. Just trying to get my head together."

Regan could tell that Dan didn't sound fine, but he decided not to press the issue. "Happy Birthday," Regan said. "Even if it's a day late. And Merry Christmas."

"Thanks," Dan replied, twisting the phone cord between his fingers nervously. "Merry Christmas to you, too. How's Maypenny?"

"Getting on, but sharp as ever," Regan replied. "Everyone else is doing okay," he lied.

"Are you sure about that?" Dan asked. Bill Regan was not a good liar.

"No," his uncle said. "If I knew your address, I'd write you all about it." Then Regan took a deep breath. He had something to tell Dan, but he didn't know the best way of breaking it to him. He decided to just dive in and tell Dan.

"There is some bad news," Regan said. "I don't know how to tell you--"

"Say it," Dan said.

Regan took a deep breath, as if he was diving into something deep. "Mart Belden tried to commit suicide two days ago."

On the other end of the phone, there was silence. Regan could hear a television set going in the background.

"Dan? Are you there?"

"I'm here," Dan said finally and in a strange sounding voice. "How is he now?"

"He's at the hospital under suicide watch. He tried swallowing an entire bottle of prescription sleeping pills. Bobby Belden found him and just in time, too."

"Oh God," was all Dan could say. The heavy weight of guilt came bearing down upon him again. "He's going to be okay, right?"  _Please say he's going to be okay._

"He's stable right now. I'm sorry, Dan."

_Not as sorry as I am._

*********

Sleepyside

 

When Regan finished talking to his nephew, he immediately called Crabapple Farm. Trixie answered the phone.

"Any news?" he asked her.

"No change," she replied. "But after the holidays, they're going to transfer him to a different hospital." She couldn't bring herself to say "mental hospital". "Moms and Dad say it's for the best."

"Dan called," Regan said to Trixie.

"He did?" Trixie asked, surprise and joy evident in her voice. She had been worried about Dan ever since he left town last June, the only word he left was a vaguely written letter to his uncle saying he had to get away and not to find him. "How is he?"

"He said he was fine, but I could tell he wasn't. He says he's trying to get his head together."

Trixie leaned against the kitchen wall. "Where is he? What's he doing?"

"He's in Nebraska of all places, working on a ranch. I was going to get his address, but then I told him about Mart and that got forgotten."

"It's too bad telephones can't tell you the number from where the other person is calling," she commented. "Then you could call him back."

"That would be nice, but someone has to invent it first. And I get the feeling Dan wants to be left alone for the time being."

Trixie digested that. She caught the faint hint of warning in Regan's voice.  _Don't go trying to find him, Shamus._ Not that she could track him down these days anyway.

*********

The O'Brien Ranch

 

When the tears stopped coming, Michelle went outside the stables and scooped up a handful of snow in her bare hand. She left her gloves in the car. She took the snow and bathed her red eyes with it. It was no wet washcloth, but she hoped it worked just the same.

It had started snowing while she was in the stables. Large, fluffy flakes fell and clung to her hair. She took a ragged breath, squared her shoulders, and walked to the cabin.  _You're going to see Dan again. Think about that. You're going to see him again and he's going to get to see you again. You've got something to tell him that he wants to hear._ The words became her mantra, circling around her head.

She reached the door and knocked sharply. The last time she was here, she never bothered knocking. But it seemed like she should knock now.

She could see him through the window and she grew more and more excited as he came to the door. Michelle smiled.

When Dan opened the door and she saw his face, the smile died on her lips. He was wearing the old lost expression, the one she saw on his face last summer. She grew alarmed.

"Dan?"

He looked at her and she saw a small spark flicker in his eyes, as if he wanted to be happy to see her. But those eyes were two black pools of misery and whatever it was that had made him this way had a stronger hold on him. He looked at her so forlornly, she felt her heart breaking. She entered the cabin, closing the door behind her. If her eyes were still red, he didn't notice.

"Michelle," he said in a broken voice.

In a rush, she went to him and took him into her arms and held him tightly as that alone could chase the demons away.

Dan buried his face in her hair and started to cry, his tears mixing with the melting snow flakes.

**Author's Note:**

> I only own the groupie and her dysfunctional family. Originally written in 2002.


End file.
